Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(30)

Of course, some people were known criminals. They couldn’t be caught or prosecuted for some crimes, but they might have records for the minor infractions that prosecutors had been able to prove in court.

Unfortunately, some people did get away with crimes.

Including murder.

But this was vigilantism. And when it became this broad, the criminals would make mistakes.

Just like this trio had.

They’d killed an innocent girl. And they’d killed another thug—but in front of witnesses. They were being found out.

Still…

Beth was sitting on the porch, a notebook in her hands, when they arrived.

She immediately hopped up, happy to welcome Jackson—but then became suspicious. Jackson wasn’t supposed to be here.

She was quick, though, and put things together. “This has something to do with the murders in New Orleans, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Yep,” Jackson told her. “Weird enough for the Krewe—I’m sure you’ve seen the news. Witches. And we’ve been asked to help.”

“Figured that was what Jake was up to,” Beth said. “Great wedding planning,” she added dryly, looking at Ashley.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You and Frazier will know what we’re doing. All we have to do is wait for the ghosts and ghoulies and spiders and all to come down…and some pretty stuff to go up. We’ve really got it all under control. And besides, it’s almost Halloween. So it will all be over in a few days, no matter what.” Ashley looked around. “Where are all our actors?”

“Getting set for tonight,” Beth said, looking at her watch. “Gates open to the public in about an hour.”

“Want to meet the cast?” Ashley asked Jake and Jackson.

Beth wasn’t fooled. “Good Lord, please tell me that this isn’t going to… Oh, no. Donegal is involved somehow?”

“No,” Jake said.

“I think you’re lying, special agent,” Beth accused.

Jackson told her, “Honestly, Donegal isn’t involved. Not in the way you’re thinking. We just want to talk to one of your cast members. He knew the young woman who was murdered.”

“What is the world coming to?” Beth muttered. “That’s something I’ve asked myself more and more over the last few years.” She pointed down to the outbuildings. “Go, children, save the world. Or, at the least, some hapless souls in the state of Louisiana. And quite frankly, you all should stay to see what’s going on here—and let us know if we need to stop.”

“You haven’t had anything bad happen here, have you?” Jake asked.

“Lots of screaming. But all in fun,” Beth said.

“This way,” Ashley told the two of them.

She headed first for the smokehouse—and Jonathan Starling. After all, he’d known Shelley Broussard.

Jake and Jackson trailed behind her. She opened the door. For a moment, she wondered if she should have knocked—he was the only actor working in the smokehouse.

But it was her property. Her smokehouse. And he was, at this time and place, her employee.

“Hey, there,” she said.

He was adjusting some of his props. The lights were all on and there was also a bit of sunlight still coming through the cracks in the paper covering the windows.

“Hey, yourself.” He smiled. He wasn’t dressed for the night yet. Then again, his costume was just something of a butcher’s coat—covered in blood. “I heard you were going to be here tonight. I’m awfully glad. We really hope that we’re pleasing you.”

“Body parts, blood, screaming… Halloween. What’s not to like?” Ashley joked.

“I love working out here,” he said. “Some of the guys are from Baton Rouge. I’m from NOLA. I’m—I’m glad to be out of the city.”

She didn’t reply as Jake and Jackson walked in behind her.

“This is pretty cool,” Jake said, looking around the room.

“Definitely frightening,” Jackson agreed.

“Jonathan, this is my fiancé, Jake Mallory. And Jackson Crow, head of Jake’s unit.”

“Unit. Oh, yeah, I heard you were FBI,” Jonathan said, looking from Jake to Jackson. He smiled ruefully then. “You’re not just here because…because you kind of live here,” he said to Jake. “You’re both here because of Shelley.”

“Yes,” Jake said flatly. There was no other reply. “You did know her. How well? And why did they think you two were arguing at the art shop?”

“I didn’t want her there,” he said softly.

“There—at the art shop?” Jackson asked him.

Jonathan nodded gravely. “There was something—wrong with it all. I mean, Nick Nicholson acts all noble—like he’s a great patron of the arts. But there was something weird about the situation. Shelley would break appointments with me because of these ‘meetings’ they were going to have. What was there to meet about?” He frowned, seeming to be reliving the discussion in his mind. “They took turns being clerks. When they were off, they could still go hang stuff up at Jackson Square. But…”

“You were angry because of the meetings?” Ashley asked.